Forgetting August (Lost & Found) (17 page)

H
ere’s to Sarah and her ballerina twirling, leap-flipping hard work!” I shouted, thrusting my wine glass up in the air as the three of us cheered and toasted my incredibly successful friend.

It had been a long time coming, but we’d eventually figured out a date when all three of us could sit down and have a celebratory dinner in Sarah’s honor. The delay was mostly due to Sarah’s crazy work schedule, not ours. But we’d figured it out and here we were.

My two favorite people in the world, several bottles of wine and a house full of home-cooked food.

It was marvelous.

“That was horrible,” Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her petite hand. “We really need to work on your understanding of ballet.”

I shook my head as I took a large gulp of merlot. “Nope, I’m fine. And that toast was amazing, thank you very much! It was from the heart!”

We all laughed as we settled into dinner. I’d really gone all out this time, making all of Sarah’s favorites—even though I knew she’d only eat a bite or two from each.

If that.

She might not be a purger anymore, but she was and always would be a ballerina first. Her weight was paramount to her career and she took it very seriously. Fatty foods were the enemy and only consumed on occasion, and I knew she would be spending tomorrow in the gym or on the ballet floor working off the extra calories she’d consumed. The fact that she was even drinking tonight meant that it was a special event. Usually she had was Diet Coke, black coffee, or water. It was a dedicated life, and she was dedicated to it one hundred percent.

“You’re trying to kill me, Ev,” she pouted, looking at the table full of food.

“No, if I was doing that, I would have made a chocolate cheesecake,” I grinned.

“You didn’t!” she warned, jumping from the table to run to the refrigerator, where I’d hidden the tempting dessert.

“You evil bitch!” I heard her mumble behind the refrigerator door. She reappeared, licking her finger, and I saw her eyes roll back slightly in her head.

Ryan chuckled. “I think her understudy may need to do the next show.”

“No,” she answered, coming back to the table to pour more wine. “That psycho has been gunning for my spot ever since the first rehearsal. I will be limping onto the stage before I let her have the satisfaction.”

Ryan and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with surprise.

Wow, dance drama. Who knew?

“Okay, well…that sounds frightening. Anything else going on at work, babe?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I met a guy,” she grinned, a goofy happy grin I hadn’t seen in ages. Not since she’d dated a short-term coworker of mine who’d turned out to be married. That didn’t end well.

It did explain why he never saw her outside of work, though. I always thought that was strange and slightly awkward. The rest of us at the shop never knew what we’d be walking into when going for supplies in the stockroom. She thought he was just scared of commitment—turns out she wasn’t far off the mark there.

“Who is he? I must know everything!” I said, demanding the details every best friend must have.

“I actually don’t want to say quite yet,” she explained. “It’s really new and different…and I don’t want to jinx it.”

“So you’re just going to announce that you have this new guy in your life that makes you all gushy and weird and then what? Nothing? What’s with that?”

“Come on, Ev, give her some slack—she’ll come around when she’s ready.”

“I will,” she agreed, turning her head to his in agreement. “I just want it to be real before I tell you anything.”

When did they become so chummy?

“Okay, I can live with that,” I said resignedly, taking a bit of risotto from my overfilled plate.

“Besides, I want to talk about you,” she continued. “I’ve been so busy with my performance schedule that I feel like we haven’t had any time to talk about everything that’s been going on with you.”

I looked up at her, not really knowing what to say. The time I spent with August felt private somehow. We were reliving past memories. I was sharing a part of myself with him, a piece of me I’d buried away. It wasn’t something I really wanted to discuss over dinner and wine with my best friend and fiancé.

“I don’t really know what to say,” I answered awkwardly, taking a sip from my glass.

“I know it must have been difficult—spending all that time with him. Why do you keep doing it?” she asked, rather bluntly.

I opened my mouth to answer, but found no words.

I didn’t really know why I kept going, other than the fact that I just did. I felt some string pulling me toward him, linking us together, and until I figured out how to cut it loose, I would continue to go. And I felt strangely protective of that. Why did I need to explain it?

“Honey.” She grabbed my hand from across the table. I looked up at her, meeting her warm gaze. Ryan was silent as he watched the exchange. “You know you don’t have to do this—any of it. Just walk away. Come back to us and forget all of this nonsense.”

I blinked once, and then again, feeling like I was in some sort of staged intervention. Both of them were staring at me with sad, round eyes that were meant to be comforting but offered nothing of the sort.

“No one is forcing me to do anything,” I answered, yanking my hand back from hers.

“We know. We just worry that you put too much stock into what this Dr. Abrams said—that this is the only way for you to move on. I think you just need time to adjust, to get used to this new normal. That doesn’t have to include August.”

Everything she said was lost after the first word left her mouth.

“‘We?’” I asked through my gritted teeth. “Since when are the two of you a we?”

She shot a hesitant glance across to table to Ryan. “Ryan was worried about you,” she explained, while Ryan said quietly next to me, “We both were.”

“So you just decided to talk about me behind my back?”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Honey—it wasn’t like that. We were just concerned.”

“So concerned that you didn’t think to involve me in these little chats?” I was already rising from my seat, my appetite gone. The need to flee grew by the minute as the room turned into a giant vacuum, sucking all the air right out of its center. I couldn’t stand it—the thought of the two of them talking about me, like I was some weak little child.

I was not weak.

I was not powerless.

And I was not going to stand here for one more second.

“I need air,” I managed to say, before I grabbed my keys and purse off the table.

“Everly, please,” Ryan said, touching my shoulder as I made my way to the door.

“So you
can
speak after all?” I nearly spat, making my way toward the door. I slammed it shut before I could hear another word. They didn’t run after me. They knew my routine. I always ran, always fled.

I’d come back, I always did.

I should not be here.

I should not be here.

I’d driven all over the city, letting my thoughts wander and wander as I tried to cool my heated temper, but nothing had worked and bit by bit—mile by mile, I’d edged closer and closer to the dark blue sea.

Until I found myself at the cliffs, pulling up to the last place in the world I should be.

Why, when I felt the most alone, did I turn to the person I trusted the least?

I shut off the engine and dimmed the headlights, then I sat in the surrounding darkness, deciding upon my next move.

If I were smart I’d start up the car, back up into the street, and go home.

But tonight—after seeing my best friend and my fiancé gang up against me like some adolescent troublemaker, I was feeling less on the brainy side and bordering on something a bit riskier. Which was probably why I was currently sitting in August’s driveway…contemplating whether I was ever going to get out of my car.

The decision was made for me when a small tapping at my window nearly had me jumping out of my skin. I turned to see August bent over, his hands in his pockets as he took a step back, waiting for me to respond.

I pressed the button to lower the window before realizing I’d already pulled the keys out of the ignition. Taking a steadying breath, I pushed open the door and stepped out, ready to face the decision I’d made by driving here.

“Hi,” I said hesitantly, unable to meet his firm gaze. I instead found a new fascination with the brickwork on the driveway, studying the intricate herringbone pattern that wove beneath my feet.

“Hi,” he replied, mimicking my tone. He didn’t ask why I was there, or expect anything—just stood there, patiently waiting as I moved gravel beneath me. It was then that I noticed his shoes. They were nice—fancier than I’d seen him wear during our excursions around the city—black, shiny…much more reminiscent of the old August—and in stark contrast to the flip-flops I’d thrown on when I’d run out of my own house. Glancing up, I realized he was dressed up as well—but not like he’d once been, with thousand-dollar suits and designer ties. Tonight he was more understated, in a pair of sleek gray trousers that hugged his trim waist. The dusty green shirt he wore matched his eyes perfectly and I had a hard time pulling my own from his gaze.

“You have plans,” I blurted out. “I’m so sorry—I’ve interrupted something.”

Feeling extremely embarrassed, I turned and nearly stumbled into the door of my car. With lightning quick reflexes he caught me, grabbing my waist and righting me before stepping back. His hand had only touched me for a brief moment but I could still feel the heat of it, grazing the bare skin between my jeans and t-shirt.

“Everly, stop—please,” he pleaded. “Why are you here?”

I turned, my hands nearly trembling as I stood before him. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

His eyes rounded as he took in my appearance. “Come on. Why don’t you come inside for a while? Maybe you can make coffee for the both of us?” he suggested.

I nodded, but then asked, “What about your plans?” I looked down at the keys in his hands that he quickly stuffed in his pocket.

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Okay,” I relented.

I followed him up to the door that still had the brass knocker with our initials on it. I tried to ignore the guilt I felt as I passed through the entryway, but it seared a path through my belly nonetheless.

I was not doing anything wrong. This was just another one of our meetings.

An impromptu meeting between August and me—nothing more.

Tonight, I’d become a grand master at lying to myself.

“Why don’t you start the coffee while I make a quick call?” he suggested, as he shrugged off the light jacket he had on. I stood there watching him tug his shirt from his pants, until I realized I was staring and quickly scurried into the kitchen.

Nothing had changed since the last time I’d been in here, which made me smile. The kitchen had always been my domain, and it felt good to be able to roam around in here without having to think at all. I pulled out cups while the coffee brewed. I didn’t bother listening to August’s conversation. He obviously wanted privacy since he’d walked into the other room, and if he was talking to another women—which I highly suspected he was—I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to hear it.

Knowing I was the cause of a possibly botched date was already weighing heavy on my mind.

I was supposed to be helping him move on…not tread backward. And I had enough guilt when it concerned that man.

“Almost ready?” he asked, stepping into the large space, dominating it instantly. The kitchen could have been a football field wide and it still wouldn’t have been big enough in that instant. His presence had always seemed larger than life, and that was one thing that hadn’t changed—past or present. He could change his clothing style, the way he wore his hair, and even the build of his body, but his invading presence never changed. It always affected me. Invaded me. Took over my senses.

“Just about,” I replied, tapping my fingers against the cold marble countertop in a rhythmic motion. The last bit of coffee brewed, gurgling and steaming until the last drop fell. I quickly turned to grab the sugar and milk and returned ready to fix everything up.

Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.

Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but he smiled. “Just black,” he answered.

I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the milk. I’d grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of sugar and a slash of milk into his cup like I always had.

How easily I’d fallen back into an old routine.

“I take it that’s different?” he spoke up.

“Yes,” I answered, “but good. Now you’re a purist like me.” I gave him the slightest hint of a grin. His eyes narrowed in on my lips, noticing the tiny change in my expression. I quickly wiped it away with a fake cough, using my hand to cover it.

Coward.

I don’t know why I continued to treat him so poorly. After the amount of time we’d spent together, I finally understood the difference. He might carry the same facial features, wear similar clothing and hairstyle, but beyond his physical attributes, August had changed.

For the better.

And yet, I was still hell bent on punishing him for who he’d been before.

Maybe it was left over resentment for the last few years of our relationship—left over feeling seeping through my psyche. Or perhaps I was too afraid to get attached then suddenly discover one day I’d grown close to a man who’d disappeared yet again because his memories had returned.

All great questions to bring up with Tabitha…if only I had the guts.

Admitting them to myself was one thing. Saying them out loud to someone else seemed drastic…like I was actually owning them—acknowledging August as an important person in my life, rather than just contemplating the possibilities in my convoluted, messed-up head.

Picking up my cup of steaming hot coffee, I glanced up at him as he did the same.

“Do you want to sit in the living room?” he offered. I nodded and followed him into the large, inviting space. I’d designed this room for comfort, going against the stuffy professional designer’s idea of style for a more laid-back atmosphere. She’d chosen sleek leather and hard lines. All I’d envisioned were legs sticking to furniture in the summer and backaches year round. I’d told her to try again, and when she’d come back, clearly peeved, she presented a much less formal idea with soft suedes and plenty of places to kick up your feet and relax.